Disillusioned
by erm31323
Summary: Written for Round 8 of the Quidditch League Competition - Regulus Black always agreed with the Dark Lord's ideals. His methods, however, are another thing entirely. Regulus begins to have second thoughts about becoming a Death Eater.


**A/N - Quidditch League Round 8 - This round was all about the Black family and my character was Regulus, who was surprisingly difficult to write. Takes place during the summer of 1979. **

**Disillusioned**

Regulus stands near the door and watches. He is supposed to be participating, but so far everyone is too involved in their own fun to notice that he isn't. He does this more often than he should, hanging back and claiming to be looking out for Aurors or those like his brother that are working for Dumbledore. Mostly no one questions it, although he knows that Bellatrix suspects. Now that he is out of school, she has requested his presence with her on raids more and more often. Regulus knows it is only a matter of time before she forces him to take a more active role or kills him for being weak. He's not sure exactly which option he would rather take at this point.

He cannot take his eyes off the woman on the floor as she screams and writhes under the Cruciatus curse. It's not that he is unfamiliar with it. On the contrary, he has been subjected to it many times himself, more than he likes to remember. He has even used it on occasion, although he prefers not to. He never seems to be able to get enough power into the curse. He knows it is because he doesn't hate their victims as he should, but it is hard to muster enough hate for people that he doesn't even know.

His eyes finally leave the woman as she slumps into unconsciousness, travelling instead to his deranged cousin who is cackling gleefully as she slowly slices into the flesh of the man in front of her. He is the husband of the woman who is now bleeding from her mouth and nose and his only crime seems to be that he is a mudblood that had the nerve to marry a pureblood. He screams and begs for his wife's life, telling them to take him instead and his only answer is a snort from Bellatrix and the assurance that that is exactly what she plans to do.

The mask that Regulus wears sometimes itches and makes his forehead sweat, but he has never been more grateful for it. He can hide behind it and not think about the fact that the woman on the floor was the Seeker for the Ravenclaw quidditch team during his fourth and fifth year. He can try and forget about the time that he grabbed the snitch right out from under her and she just laughed and then congratulated him. He can ignore the times he saw the two of them studying together in the library or walking on the grounds hand in hand. While behind the mask he may be Regulus Black, in front of it he is just another follower of the Dark Lord, just one more nameless, faceless torturer.

He was curious about the masks when he was first given one. If they believed in their cause so strongly, what need for masks? Shouldn't they be proud to stand up for what they believed in? It was explained to him of course. The Ministry's attitude, along with Dumbledore's band of followers, forced them to keep their membership secret. Until the time when they could convince the population at large that their cause was just and right, they had to stay in the shadows and protect themselves from persecution. It made sense Regulus had thought, until he realized the real reasons for the masks.

The masks hide their faces from their victims surely, but they also hide them from each other. Regulus knows who many of his fellow Death Eaters are. His family is heavily represented of course and there are those that he went to school with, not to mention those that nearly flaunt their membership. But there are many that he does not know and he has come to realize that the Dark Lord prefers it that way. It keeps all of them off balance just a bit, not knowing if their neighbor is their ally or their enemy. The Dark Lord seems to delight in watching them all scramble for position when they don't always know who they are struggling against.

There is the anonymity too of course. It is much easier to torture and kill someone when they can't see your face. Regulus wonders if most of them would be able to do the things they do if they didn't have the masks to hide behind. He knows he would not and he suspects that many of the others wouldn't either. There are exceptions, of course. His cousin and her equally deranged husband are two, McNair and Mulciber as well.

Regulus turns his attention back to the scene in front of him. Behind the mask, he can forget that the woman on the floor, who is surely dead now, reminds him of Annalise, the Hufflepuff girl that he loves but can never tell anyone about. Annalise, with her long brown hair and dancing blue eyes who is just a half-blood and therefore unsuitable for the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black. He wonders idly if she is on the Dark Lord's list. Regulus hasn't quite figured out just exactly how their victims make it on to the list, although if he had to guess he would have to say that the Dark Lord's inner circle feeds him names. He is almost certain that the couple they are torturing tonight slighted one of his fellows while they were still at school. He nearly laughs at the ridiculousness of school boy grudges determining who lives and dies.

He wonders idly if Annalise is on the Dark Lord's list and if she is, if Regulus will do anything if they move against her. He has the feeling that he just might. Perhaps that will be the catalyst for the vague feeling of disquiet that has been plaguing him for weeks now. His thoughts have been leading him down more and more dangerous paths lately. He has tried to squash them, tried to convince himself what they are doing is right, but as he watches Bellatrix dip her finger into one of the bloody gashes on the man's chest and then bring it to her lips, he knows that it isn't.

He was a follower of the Dark Lord long before he actually took the Mark and he has the numerous newspaper clippings on his wall at home to prove it. The Dark Lord's ideology was always similar to his family's own, Toujours Pur, at least in theory. Put into practice, Regulus realizes that the majority of Death Eaters are nothing more than bullies at best; psychotic sadists at worst as he sees the rapturous look on his cousin's face after she licks her fingers clean of blood.

This is not what he signed up for, nor what he was expecting when he humbly took the Mark. He locks eyes with Bellatrix who gives him a lascivious look that makes his stomach turn. He knows that he cannot leave, as no one leaves the Dark Lord's service and survives. Regulus knows that he will die, but when he does, he intends for his death to mean something. He suspects that he will get his chance and for some reason, he thinks it might be sometime soon. Until then, he will tuck away his traitorous thoughts and play his part.

He looks at the two dead people on the floor, then nods to his cousin before walking slowly out the door and casting the Dark Mark above the house. He watches as the snake shimmies and twists in the mouth of the skull. "Soon," he whispers to himself.


End file.
